Limbo
by LiechLiet
Summary: Meeting Tino was a bright thing in Berwald's admittedly rather lonely life - but with suddenly starting to experience strange visions and fits of dizziness, and the arrival of a murderer in their small town, Berwald soon comes to realise that with a past as shadowy as his own, things won't be simple until he finds a way to lose these demons. / SuFin
1. light

**LIMBO**

* * *

**prologue**

_That humming sound was the first thing Berwald noticed when he opened his eyes. The endless humming and beeping that had followed him throughout his dreams. There had been a lot of dreams; he knew that._

_What he didn't know was that he had been in a coma for nearly two days._

_"Berwald?"_

_"Pappa…?" the five-year-old murmured, shifting between the sheets, stretching out his lanky little body._

_"Berwald!" His father quickly enveloped him in a hug, letting out a laugh of joy. "Sigrid, he's awake!" Beside him, Berwald's mother drifted out of her uneasy sleep, but all the anxiety on her face evaporated when she saw her son with his eyes open and even bright, bright with life._

_Both parents cuddled their son close, cooing over him, stroking his short, wheat-blond hair. Between them, Berwald snuggled up contentedly, and decided that his parents were so happy that he wasn't going to make them sad by telling them he still felt sick – like his head was in the clouds while his body was there in bed._

_"Your son is a miracle," the doctor told them, happily noting down that Berwald seemed completely recovered. "I have to confess that when you brought him in, Mr. Oxenstierna –"_

_"Call me Sven," Berwald's father interrupted, a big smile - a rare sight – on his face. "We've been through enough together."_

_" – Sven, then, when you brought him in I was worried that he wouldn't make it. He has been to the edge of death and back…"_

_"We don't need to think about that anymore," Sigrid said quickly, running her hand through Berwald's hair over and over as she helped him eat some soup that had just been brought for him. "All that matters is that he is here now." She rubbed his back lovingly, though part of her was still worried. He was pale as death, after all._

* * *

**chapter one  
****(recommended listening: 'hungry face' by mogwai)**

* * *

_Twelve years later_

"Berwald, are you all right?" His mother, Sigrid, leant over the breakfast table to feel her son's forehead. Now seventeen, Berwald was several inches taller than her and broadly muscular, but nothing would stop him from still being her adored son. "You look pale," she said worriedly.

"'m always pale," he murmured, gently pushing her hand off. "Don' worry."

"All mothers worry," she chuckled, standing up to clear the dishes away. Berwald stood up to help her – always a dutiful son – before picking up his rucksack and shouldering it, straightening his glasses on his slightly crooked nose. Sigrid looked up to give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and smiled sadly.

"You look more like your father every day…"

"Bye, Mamma," Berwald said softly, leaning down to kiss her cheek before leaving the house. It was only a short walk to school in their tiny town, and the wind whipped his face in a way that wasn't wholly unpleasant – it woke him up, since he had had the most horrible night's sleep.

* * *

"You look awful." His supposed best friend, Lukas Bondevik, met him at the school gates. Lukas was leaning back against the high wall, looking utterly bored, and his Arctic blue eyes scrutinised Berwald's face in a way that made him look far crueller than Berwald knew he really was. Well, Lukas was blunt, at the most.

"Thanks," Berwald mumbled, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"No, I mean it," the Norwegian said, in a tone you might call earnest by some stretch of the imagination, as they walked into the building together. "You actually look quite ill. Were you watching the news this morning or something?"

"What was the news?"

"Some woman got stabbed last night. Apparently her intestines were all over the pavement." Lukas' voice was quiet, and even though his words were callous, his tone was soft.

Berwald shuddered. "Didn' know that. But…" he paused, wondering if Lukas would ridicule him if he decided to say what he had dreamt about the previous night.

"Sve. Spill." Well, when Lukas gave an order like that, 'no' wasn't an option.

"Dreamt abou' a woman gettin' stabbed las' night." It had been the worst type of nightmare, one where Berwald had been frozen in bed, unable to move or run or even wake himself up as he watched a shadowy figure driving a knife repeatedly into the body of a screaming young woman –

"You're a prophet, obviously," Lukas told him dryly. "Go and write your holy book while I prepare everyone else for the coming of the new Messiah."

Berwald didn't even pretend to find that funny, and Lukas smirked faintly. This was their friendship.

* * *

Registration came as a shock to everyone because there was _someone new_ sitting at the front of the class. This simply did not happen at their school; nobody _moved _to this town. You were here because you were born here, and that in itself was punishment enough – according to Lukas at least.

But no, there he was, sitting comfortably in a seat: a boy with bright blonde hair, a bright blue sweater, and a big, bright smile. Everything about him was just… _bright_.

Berwald was starstruck.

"I'm Tino," he introduced himself to a group of curious classmates, with a friendly smile that verged on charming – at least in Berwald's eyes. "I'm from Finland. We used to move around a lot because my father was in the military, but now we've decided to settle here." It was a perfect introduction, seemingly rather ordinary, yet Berwald, listening in from the back of the classroom, was intrigued and desperate to know more.

The Finn seemed happy enough to answer his brief questions, even if it was with a hint of nervousness and confusion as to why the tall, stoic boy was so interested in him. Berwald didn't think his questions were strange at all; he was smitten, even though he wasn't quite sure of it yet.

"I really like ice hockey! I've always tried to be on a team whenever we've lived in a place that had one," Tino was saying, his tone enthusiastic.

"Ice hockey?" Berwald was surprised. Their ice hockey team, as small as it was, was composed of the likes of lanky Matthew Williams and big, broad Ivan Braginsky – and Tino certainly wasn't the tallest person around! "Don't y'get hurt?"

"Of course I do!" Tino laughed. "But so does everyone else! That's just a part of the game!" He patted Berwald's arm innocently, as if to reassure him that he wasn't going to get killed out on the ice. "Do you do any sort of sports, then?"

When he was answered with a shake of the head, Tino asked, "Then what do you do in your free time?"

"I'm in the drama club."

"Drama? You act?" Judging by the wide eyes and slightly open mouth, Tino was in complete disbelief. "Really?"

Berwald shook his head again. "I build props. An' work the lights and sound."

"Oh! Oh, I see!" The Finn started laughing, brushing his thick fringe out of his eyes, closing his eyes for a brief second and showcasing his long eyelashes for Berwald without quite realising it. "My mistake…" he trailed off with a little chuckle. "But that's a very important job! You have a lot of responsibility in every single performance."

"It's a small group," Berwald murmured, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. Led by Mathias and Lukas, the group only usually did one play per year, sometimes two if they were especially organised. Most of the time it was Mathias leading group games with the younger students and Lukas sitting on the side reading a book.

"Still! I'd love to see how the lights and sound are controlled in a play sometime…" Tino flashed him a big smile, and Berwald felt his heart flutter. That smile wiped out all the bad things in the world.

* * *

**I'm back! This is a much darker setting than 'What a Man Needs', but I hope you'll all still like it! This is also the first time I've really tried to write something dark and suspenseful in this way, so bear with me...**


	2. prey

**chapter two**

* * *

"Wow, it really is tiny!" Tino seemed quite surprised at the size of Berwald's little 'workplace'. It was nothing more than a raised platform, behind the highest row of seats that would be occupied by the audience, reachable only by a set of rickety spiral steps and surrounded by a low wooden railing. Most of the space was occupied by the equipment for controlling the stage lights, the voice-overs, microphones, everything that pertained to Berwald's actual job, leaving only enough room for two chairs: one for Berwald himself, and one for a stack of novels. This was his little hideout, after all.

"It must be quite hard to work here!" Now Tino's voice sounded admiring. The two of them were standing at the very top of the stairs, but soon Tino was off, climbing over Berwald's chair to get a closer look at some of the equipment. Berwald couldn't follow easily, but he was secretly pleased and a little flattered that Tino was taking such an interest. After all, it had only been two weeks since the Finn had joined their little school. The two of them sat next to each other in a few classes, and got on reasonably well.

Tino, being new, was somewhat of a floater, a Lost Boy. He was friendly with everyone but not really _friends _with anyone. Except Berwald, sort of. And Mathias and Lukas by extension.

"'m used to it," the Swede shrugged, looking over his machines – light and sound control – with something almost akin to fondness. He was with these most often; they understood him, the basic commands he gave in pushing buttons and sliding switches. He didn't need to be eloquent, or even utter a single word.

"Still! And you're so tall, that must make it even harder!" His hands on the railing, Tino leant over the balcony to peer down at the stage. "I'm a little jealous, actually," he then admitted, looking back over his shoulder at Berwald with a rueful smile. "I'd love to be in a club. I'd join this one but I'm not the greatest of actors, and nobody else seems like they'd want me in their club, you know?"

"Y'can join," Berwald said instantly. "Help me up here." There were two chairs, after all! It was a job meant for two people, and Berwald couldn't imagine anyone he would rather spend the long, cosy afternoons up here with. In fact, he could almost imagine it now: Tino would talk, tell him interesting things, but not expect Berwald to talk a great deal in return. They could share a blanket and hot chocolate out of a flask…

" – sure? Don't you think we should ask Mathias and Lukas? Berwald?" Snapped out of his little daydream by Tino's hand waving worriedly in his line of vision, Berwald's eyes flickered to Tino again.

"They'll be fine with it," was all he said in response. That seemed to be Tino's biggest worry, after all. "Would you do it?"

"Of course!" Tino smiled brightly, cheeks pink. "It seems like a very interesting job! Thank you, Berwald." His tone became more sincere and thankful. "I'm really touched. I would never have guessed you were so nice!"

Tino realised his slip before Berwald did. "Not that you don't look nice! No, who am I to judge by appearances? I mean, I don't! But I just meant that you're nicer than most other people here even though you just seem ordinary! I mean -!"

"Shush." Berwald was confused more than anything. Most people didn't care if they called him scary to his face, so why was Tino getting so het up? "Don' worry. Wanna stay an' watch the rehearsal?"

The unintentional snub was totally forgotten. Tino's smile turned relieved again. With an enthusiastic nod, he sat down on the free chair, and Berwald carefully moved his books into the last bit of free floor space before sitting down himself.

They were so close that their knees were touching.

* * *

Once the rehearsal was done, it was dark outside, and Tino yawned as he stretched. "Not that that wasn't fun to watch," he chuckled, "but they're not very organised, are they?"

When he got no answer – not even a hum of recognition, which was what he had been expecting – from Berwald, he looked over to him. The Swede was staring into the middle distance, pale eyebrows drawn together in a small frown. And while it didn't look that bad on the surface, Tino could see the tension in his jaw, and the way he gripped the sides of his chair so hard that the tendons in his hands stood out stark and pale.

"Berwald, what's wrong?"

Berwald's head snapped up. "Nothin'. Headache. Don' worry." He stood up unsteadily, one hand coming up to adjust his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose. It wasn't just a headache, his head felt like it was spinning, almost literally.

"I've got aspirin if you want," Tino offered, laying a comforting hand on Berwald's arm. In any normal situation Berwald would have been practically glowing with happiness over the fact that they actually had true physical contact…

He could hear his heart thudding in his ears. It only took two shaky steps to get to the top of the staircase – one hand reached out to grip the rail – and it slipped. Berwald's vision clouded black and he didn't even hear Tino's cry of shock as he lost his footing and tumbled down the stairs.

Everything was flashing lights and blurred images, a shadow, a shadow of a man with a knife, and a bloodcurdling scream filled Berwald's head, a scream he had to struggle to hold in, nothing but a low, pained groan coming from his own mouth. Then, warm hands on his shoulders, and he shuddered, twisting away from them, curling into a foetal position –

he was sitting on a step, near the bottom of the staircase, his shoulder aching from having been bashed against the rough wood. The hands were Tino's, small and soothing, and it was Tino's voice in his ear now, no more screaming... just Tino, begging to know if Berwald was alright, if he was hurt, what had happened, if he was sick.

Slowly, slowly, his heart stopped racing, and he could swallow without feeling like he was going to vomit. He raised his head, breathed deeply, and straightened his glasses out of habit.

That seemed to make Tino laugh. Well, not laugh so much as chuckle with relief that the Swede was conscious enough to be worrying about his glasses.

"What happened? You scared me there!"

"Not sure… jus' blacked out for a second." Berwald decided to keep the rest of it quiet. Tino wouldn't be interested in stories of shadows and screams, and Berwald didn't want to lose one of the nicest friends he had (and his sweet little crush) over something that was all in his head.

"Are you sure you don't need aspirin?" Tino asked him again, helping him to his feet with a surprisingly strong grip of his hand. "Or some water? Or something sweet, that always helps! I have a whole box of liquorice if you –"

"I'm fine," Berwald assured him, rubbing his forehead with a deep sigh. Nothing to worry about, he told himself. "Are y'hungry?"

A little taken aback, Tino shrugged, laughing, though he nodded as well. "I guess so! I'm not going to get dinner for a while though, so I'll just eat a lot of sweets to make up for it," he laughed, his sweet smile bright as ever now that he thought Berwald was okay.

"Wanna come t'The Elk with me?"

"'The Elk'? What's that?"

"Pub." It was the town's one good pub; it wasn't just a bar, though of course you could buy alcohol there, but a family restaurant, as well as a meeting place and arcade. Most people from their school hung out there, and always had – it was a place everyone frequented, since their town was so small. "It's got great food, an' it's a nice place. If you'd like…"

"You're inviting me to have dinner with you?" That lovely smile grew even brighter, a warm bulb that lit Berwald's heart as well as the rest of the room. "Are you sure you don't want to be stuck towing the new guy around town?"

"It'd be a pleasure." Berwald was none too practiced in smiling but his face softened, one corner of his mouth crooking upwards into what may have been considered a half-smile.

Tino saw it and it thrilled him.

"Then lead the way!"

* * *

The Elk was cosy inside, warmly-lit with lamps, giving it an old, rustic feeling. It was still early so the drinking crowd hadn't arrived, which left plenty of tables for Berwald and Tino to make themselves comfortable at.

"These sound amazing!" Tino was reading down the menu, looking quite excited. "I don't know what to have, everything sounds too good! What do you recommend?" he asked Berwald, looking up and tilting his head in such a way that Berwald honestly wondered why on Earth Tino was hanging out with him – someone so beautiful shouldn't be interested in someone so ordinary!

"… steak," Berwald murmured, after a long moment of thought. "It's th'best I've had."

Their waiter appeared at that moment, and Berwald was surprised to recognise Lukas' younger brother, Emil, looking practically sulky in his uniform – just a brown apron over ordinary clothes – underneath a thick fringe of white-blonde hair.

"Oh, hey, Sve," he greeted, sounding utterly bored, flicking his hair back to get a good look at Berwald's new companion. "Do you guys want drinks?"

"Why're y'workin' here?" Berwald had to ask – he had thought Emil would work at the bookshop, the way Lukas did. He wasn't exactly a social person, after all. Berwald would have thought waiting tables in the most popular pub in town would kill him.

"Like I'd work in the same place as Lukas," the fifteen-year-old scoffed. "He'd get on my nerves even more than you lot do."

"Um," Tino smiled hesitantly up at him, "hi, I'm Tino. Nice to meet you…" He trailed off as if he wanted to add a question mark to the end of that phrase.

Emil stared down at him, eyeing him up, trying to work out as much as he could about this person without having to actually engage in any sort of conversation with him. A quick glance at Berwald confirmed his suspicions.

"Nice to meet you. Berwald's a keeper, you know. Now, do you want drinks or what?"

"What?" Tino exclaimed, flushing brightly.

"God, I didn't actually mean 'or what' was an option of what you could order," Emil said with a roll of his eyes. "Be serious, Tino."

"He's havin' th'steak," Berwald said quickly, while Tino was still fumbling for words, "I'll have soup, whatever's goin', an' lemonade. D'you like lemonade, Tino?"

"Uh, yes, yeah! I like lemonade," Tino managed to smile, his face steadily turned back to normal colour. Once Emil was gone, Tino relaxed, slumping a little and resting his chin on his hand. "You know him, huh?"

"He's Lukas' younger brother," Berwald supplied helpfully.

"Really? They don't really – actually, now that I think of it, they do look quite alike. They've both got that –" Wrinkling his nose, Tino obviously didn't quite know how to describe it, " – thing, with their faces –"

Berwald couldn't help but chuckle, and that made Tino blush again, but join in the laughter. "I know, I sound ridiculous! But you've seen it, right? They both make exactly the same expressions!"

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, which was only broken by Tino asking, with a concerned but fond look, "Are you sure you feel better? After your fall?" He reached out and lightly rested his hand on Berwald's forearm, patting reassuringly.

"Fine," came the hummed response. "Completely fine."

* * *

**A/N: I'm actually in Hungary right now, but I aim to write at least a few more chapters while I'm here! C: Leave a review with your thoughts!**


	3. ice-cold lake

**chapter three**

* * *

_Is this a date?_ Berwald thought to himself, as he sat between Lukas and some other person – Alfred, was it? – in the stands of the ice rink. It was true, Tino had invited him to watch, but there wasn't exactly a romantic air about it, the reason being that Tino was on the ice and Berwald was up here, listening to Alfred yelling at their team to score and Lukas talking about the newest victim.

Yes, victim. There had been another murder. The same night Berwald and Tino had had their meal at The Elk (was that a first date? Did that count?), another body had been found, brutally disembowelled as the first one had been.

"They're starting to think it's a serial killer," Lukas was saying to Mathias, who seemed more interested in trying to wrap his arm around Lukas' shoulders than in what the Norwegian was actually saying. "Apparently – _get off_, I'm trying to _talk_ – if there's another victim found in the same way –"

Berwald shivered, eyes flickering back to the rink. He could pick out Tino from up here – the shortest on the team, but one of the deftest. He weaved through the other players, faster than a winter wind, his skates sliding neat and crisp on the cold ice. The gold of his hair glinted underneath the bright lights – no, not gold, nothing so common as gold…

Berwald's head throbbed.

"Hey, Sve! _Sve!_" He was jolted out of his Tino-induced reverie by Mathias' hand, whacking his shoulder none too gently. "When are you going to ask Tino out?" On hearing Berwald's surprised sound, the Dane rolled his eyes. "It's so _obvious _that you like him, just go for it! I think he's sweet on you as well!"

"Like you're the best person to give dating advice," Lukas remarked dryly, but Mathias seemed to ignore that.

"Just say it completely obviously! No beating around the bush or being totally awkward, even though I know you can't help it! Just be like… 'be my boyfriend!' – wait, no, you're all into commitment and stuff, right? 'Be my husband'!" he laughed, so loudly that other spectators actually turned to look at them. "No, even better! 'Be my wife'!"

"_What?_" Berwald finally had to question him.

"What, he's got that girly look about him! I bet he'd be a perfect –"

Then, perfectly timed, Tino, who was fighting a player from the other team for the puck, slammed the guy – at least six foot tall and not exactly skinny – into the side of the rink with his shoulder, hard enough to make the plastic barrier shudder and the crowd let out a collective 'ohh!' of shock and concern. It quickly turned into a cheer from their supporters as the Finn sped away with the puck, a big grin on his boyish face.

Mathias looked slightly gutted. "Maybe he wouldn't be the perfect housewife after all."

* * *

Two minutes left. The rink had become a battlefield, the players grabbing for the puck, twisting and pushing and fighting for it. The crowd were hooked, all eyes on the ice – except Berwald. Berwald's eyes were squeezed tightly shut in effort to block out the pulsing in his head and the lights that were beginning to flash behind his eyes.

He refused to succumb to this, but his mind said otherwise.

"Berwald?" Lukas' voice was faint, echoing, faraway, and Berwald's arm was as good as numb when the Norwegian touched it.

"Need air," was all he managed to say, getting to his feet and staggering down from the stands, making for the exit with hazy steps. He could still hear the cheering around him, but it was removed; everyone else was above the surface while he was underwater, cold, sinking, drowning.

He didn't even make it to the door.

"Berwald! _Berwald!_" Suddenly, there were hands gripping his shoulders and shaking him, pulling him up from the dark.

Then, was that Mathias' voice? "Get up, Sve! Come on, or we'll have to get Ivan to carry you –"

"Give him space to breathe!" That was Lukas' snapping tone. "Get _back_, all of you, for the love of –"

The Swede's eyes cracked open, clouded with confusion, and the first thing he saw was Tino's face – Tino, expression panicky, shirt stuck to his back, hair plastered to his forehead. And the first thing Berwald thought, remembered, was –

"Be my wife?"

"You're all right!" Tino choked with relief, pulling Berwald up into a crushing hug. "God, Berwald, what are we going to do with you? The buzzer sounded and the first thing I saw was you collapsing!"

"Tino, he just asked you out," Mathias grinned, but he was swiftly shut up by a sharp elbow in the ribs from Lukas. The little crowd around them started to dissipate, and Tino slipped his arm into Berwald's to pull him to the now-emptying stands.

"I need to change, will you wait for me? How are you getting home?"

"Bus," Berwald said faintly.

"Well…" Tino's eyes flickered between his team, who were piling into the changing rooms, trying to figure out why they had lost the game and jokingly blaming it on each other, and Berwald, pale, withdrawn Berwald. "I could come with you, if you want? It's not far between your house and mine, only a couple of stops…"

"You would? But - ?" Surely Tino would want to go on the coach with his team? But the look on the Finn's face said otherwise.

"Give me ten minutes!"

* * *

"I'm home," Berwald called, shutting the door behind him and Tino. A chilly gust of wind was still let in though, and he shivered as he slipped his jacket off. His mother came into the hall.

"Oh, Berwald, it's you –" why did she sound so surprised? " – you're home, thank goodness! And who's this?" Her eyes – a lighter, warmer blue than his – settled on Tino.

"I'm Tino," the Finn smiled, and that was all it took for Sigrid's face to light up in an understanding smile.

"Oh, it's good to finally meet you! I've heard a lot about you from Berwald."

"Really?" Tino's cheeks turned rosy, but he only smiled more. "I'm flattered," he looked up at Berwald to say, the amethyst in his eyes soft and almost… fond. "I'd love to spend more time, but I'll need to get home soon before my own parents start worrying. I just wanted to make sure Berwald got home safely."

"It's nothin'," Berwald said quickly, before his mother could start worrying, pulling Tino up the stairs. Sigrid watched them, laughing a little to herself – she could see better than anyone that her son was head over heels in love.

"Your mother doesn't know about these, um, episodes?" Once they were in Berwald's room, Tino was able to ask him that, his tone hesitant. "She would be really worried, if she knew…"

"Tha's why I don' tell her." Berwald sat down heavily on his bed, staring at his knees. "She worries enough 'bout my health."

"Why?" Tino asked, though his attention was not on Berwald but on his bedroom. It was small, and a standard bedroom: his bed was pushed up against one wall, a little dresser beside it, and on the opposite wall, a desk and bookshelves. The free wall space was sparsely decorated, but the few photos that were there spoke more than a full wall would. He didn't wait for the answer, though, seemingly entranced by one photograph.

"Is that your father?" The words were laced with awe. The photo was nearing five years old, and showed Berwald at about twelve years old, gawky and thin, with a young, cold-flushed face, tucked underneath the arm of a man who Tino could only describe as looking exactly the way Berwald did now. The only difference was that he was smiling faintly.

Berwald's response was a nod, and Tino chuckled, admiring the picture. "You look just like him. I bet you sound like him too!"

"Mamma says so," Berwald mumbled. Talk of his father still made him feel the way he had on that day, three short years ago, when it was like he had been dropped into an ice-cold lake and never surfaced.

Tino seemed to notice that.

"Why don't you tell your mother about what keeps happening?" He joined Berwald on the bed, his tone turning concerned. "You might want to go to the doctor –"

At that, the Swede shook his head vehemently, but still offered no explanation.

"Why not? Please, it could be important! I don't want you to – nobody wants to see you suffer any more than you have to, Sve." Tino's warm hand was on his arm again, and the fond nickname lifted Berwald's heart, thawing him enough to let out a sigh.

"Had meningitis when I was little. Nearly died then… won' put her through more worry after tha'."

"You nearly died?" Suddenly Tino was shocked, apologetic, eyes wide with something like sadness. "Oh, God, I didn't know – "

"'m fine now," Berwald assured him. "Bu' tha's enough worry f'her lifetime. I won' make a fuss abou' nothin'."

"What if it isn't nothing?" was all Tino could ask softly. And Berwald couldn't reply; his only answer was placing his hand over Tino's and squeezing gently.

* * *

**A/N: I really do recommend listening to 'Hungry Face' by Mogwai on repeat while reading - I've been doing that while writing, it really sets the mood! Anyway, leave a review telling me what you think, and I promise to try and upload another chapter before I go home~**


	4. isolated

**chapter four**

* * *

**(tino)**

The sudden vibration of his mobile phone woke Tino up from his deep, warm sleep. His phone was buzzing on his bedside table, shaking, the screen glowing with bright white, casting dark shadows on the walls. Sleepily, he grabbed for it, and answered.

"Hello…?"

"Tino?" It was Berwald's voice, lower than usual and rough with what sounded perilously close to fear. "Tino, y'alrigh'?"

"Of course…" The Finn sat up sleepily, stifling a yawn. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Think there's someone comin' f'you."

Tino's blood ran cold, and his eyes snapped open, every nerve in his body suddenly awake.

"What do you mean, coming for me? This is a horrible joke if it is one, Berwald!" But Berwald wasn't the sort to play cruel tricks like this, in the middle of the night, and he sounded genuinely worried!

"Not a joke –" Berwald's voice muffled, and faintly, Tino could hear panting, as if his friend (because he really didn't know what to describe Berwald as) had just been running for his life, " – swear, jus' call th'police, or check, please – Tino, please- "

"Calm down," Tino tried to soothe him, though he was on edge himself. "Did you have a nightmare? I know they can seem really realistic, but you just need to remember that –"

"A vision – please –" the voice from the phone actually cracked, and Tino knew that Berwald was genuinely scared, for whatever reason! What did he mean by 'a vision'? Why was he so sure they were coming for Tino, not Berwald himself? _Why was he having 'visions' at all?_ But there was no time to ponder the endless possibilities!

"Okay, I'm going to call my father," Tino stepped out of his bedroom, bare feet careful on the floorboards, cradling the phone to his ear. "He has a rifle under his bed, you know."

Berwald didn't reply, but the faint sound of his breathing was confirmation that he was still there.

"Isa? Äiti?" He heard his parents stir, a faint mumble from his light-sleeping father. "Isa, I think I heard something…" Obviously he couldn't say that Berwald had phoned him and told him that someone was coming for them because he had seen it in a vision.

First, there was only the sound of Tino's father sitting up in bed. Then, quiet but pronounced, came the sound of footsteps from downstairs.

"Isa – " Tino's whisper was significantly more terrified now, " – there's someone in our house."

* * *

The moment Tino saw Berwald the next morning, he launched at the Swede, tackling him in a strong hug and talking too fast for Berwald to even try to understand most of what he was saying. People stared, but Tino didn't care!

When he pulled back, he took both of Berwald's hands firmly. "You need to explain. Explain everything." He had so many questions, and the middle of their form room wasn't the best place.

"Uh…" Berwald looked lost for words and quite uncomfortable, but the Finn was not going to let this go.

"Come on, we need to go somewhere more private."

"Bu' registration –"

"They can handle us being gone for ten minutes!" Not listening to his attempts to argue, Tino dragged Berwald from the room and into one of the now-deserted cloakrooms where a few naïve people hung their coats. "Look, I'll explain what happened after I hung up last night, and you need to tell me why you called and how you knew something was going to happen. Okay?"

He saw a flicker of indecision, and even something like fear on Berwald's face, but then came a reluctant nod.

"Well, I heard footsteps. It was pretty scary, actually." Chuckling, Tino rubbed the back of his neck. "My father got his gun and went downstairs, and then we heard him shouting, but when he came back up, he said that nobody was there. Just that the window was broken. I think whoever it was ran off when they saw my dad because he's pretty terrifying with his gun, even if he's only as tall as me!" He tried to bring some humour into it, just to cheer Berwald up a little – he looked miserable, not to mention tired.

"Now, what happened on your side?"

When Berwald didn't answer, Tino's face hardened, and he looked properly serious, almost angry. "If you don't tell me, I'm going to have to believe you were part of it."

"What?"

"What other conclusion could I come to? Give me reason to believe that you weren't in on this, in some twisted way!" His tone turned almost desperate. He didn't want Berwald to be the bad guy in this; he liked Berwald! (Maybe a little too much.)

The Swedish boy sighed deeply, closing his eyes. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"Better than thinking that you're bad," Tino assured him, reaching out for that ever-present and reassuring pat on the arm. "And how crazy can it be, really?"

* * *

"So… when you have those attacks, when you collapse, you have _visions?_" Tino clarified, shocked. Out of anything, he had not expected this. "Visions of people being _killed?_"

Berwald nodded, head bowed. They had gone from standing to sitting, Berwald with his back against the wall and Tino cross-legged opposite him.

"Usually tha's all I can tell. This one was different… clearer."

"But nobody got killed this time! How did you know it was coming to my house?"

Berwald could only shrug, though his expression was slightly pained. "It was all there. Saw y'house, jus' knew… it was y'family."

"Have you ever had this before? You said it only started a few months ago… when I arrived in town." Suddenly Tino's heart dropped. "Do I have something to do with this?"

"Can't be possible." And Berwald seemed so deadly certain that Tino just nodded faintly.

"Has this sort of thing ever happened before?" If it had, it would be a little easier to gauge the cause, right? Unfortunately Berwald shook his head.

"Unless… somethin' like it happened once. Bu' it was sorta different…"

"How so?" Tino asked eagerly, sitting forward. Not that he was revelling in Berwald having attacks, but he really needed to find out the cause of this, to help Berwald and understand why this was happening to him.

"It was three years ago." Swallowing, Berwald ducked his head again, and suddenly Tino sensed that it was something important, more important than he had previously thought. "Day m'father died."

There was a quiet beat of silence between them.

"What happened?" This time, Tino's voice was softer.

"Was an icy day. 'E slipped, an' fell at the train station. In front of a train." The town was so small that everyone knew - Sven Oxenstierna, a teacher at the local college, had died when a train had crushed him. Berwald had never needed to say it because everyone in his class _knew_.

"Oh, Sve…" Tino reached for his hand, squeezing it and trying to offer comfort. "I'm sorry…"

"Blood all over the tracks." He took a deep breath, a faint shudder in it, before letting it out in a sigh. "Tha' was the last time it happened. Nothin' since then."

Again, silence fell, and Tino wanted nothing more than to pull Berwald into his arms and really comfort him, but… it didn't feel like the right moment. Berwald was too isolated, even though Tino was right there with him.

"We need to do something," the Finn finally said. "These visions are taking their toll, I mean, you _look_ sick! We're all worried about you. And you can't just ignore them! You need to go to the doctor."

"But –"

"Berwald." Tino's voice was steely. "Go to the doctor. I'll come with you, if you want, but please, get this looked at."

After a brief pause, Berwald nodded, and mumbled something to himself.

"What's that?"

"I said," and Berwald smiled the smallest hint of a smile, "can' disagree, or you'll slam me int'the side'f the ice rink."

Tino burst out laughing. "You bet I will!"

* * *

**A/N: This chapter frustrates me because the pace is weird. Leave a review with your thoughts!**


	5. pulse

**chapter five**

* * *

"So we're all definitely on for tonight?" Mathias felt the need to clarify for the third time that day. "We're all going back to my place?"

"If I changed my answer now, would your head explode?" Lukas asked dryly, making a point of flicking through a textbook so as to look deliberately disinterested. The four of them were in the lunch hall, wasting away the last free period of the day, though Berwald and Lukas had books out as if they were studying, to keep watchful teachers away.

"You know, I was actually just invited out tonight," Tino said, a little shyly. "The hockey team wants me to go to the pub with them." At that, all heads snapped round.

"No!" Mathias practically cried. "They can't steal you like that! You were our friend first! Those hockey heads should –"

"Don't worry, I told them I was busy," came the reassuring chuckle. "Gosh, you're very territorial, aren't you?" he teased.

"He's been that way since he could grab toys off me in our prams," Lukas told him. "Do you even drink, Tino?"

Berwald was watching the whole situation silently, all of his worries silent. Yes, he had startled a little when Tino had mentioned going out with the hockey team and seemed to say that he was bailing on their afternoon at Mathias', but now that that was all settled, he could sit back and watch his friends.

He was proud that he had brought them together. Mathias and Tino got on well, and Lukas seemed to tolerate him without getting more than mildly annoyed with the Finn's constant cheerfulness – but Lukas was generally mildly annoyed at everyone, so that was quite an achievement.

The only problem was that now Berwald felt like he was losing Tino to the other two.

"Well, I don't just drink," Tino was saying, "but I can drink. I am Finnish, after all! I could drink Ivan under the table if I really wanted."

"Ivan is a hilarious drunk!" Mathias laughed. "The lot of them go out celebrating wins whenever they get them, and Ivan is always the one you can hear down the street, chattering away in that high-pitched voice of his! I've been out with him a few times as well, he's a laugh!"

"Why is he so friendly all the time?" Tino had to ask. "He's always going up to people and putting his arms around them, is there a reason for that?"

"He was a victim of the primary school gossip mill," Lukas remarked. "People said he was a scary bully, when he was only a bit strange. As a result he's always been desperate for friends and being in people's good books. He's a bit over-the-top about it, though."

"I've seen that picture in Berwald's room of you three on your first day of school!" Tino remembered, as the bell sounded and they started to pack their stuff up. "Mathias, you looked like you'd been dragged through a hedge backwards!"

While the four of them walked together, leaving the school and heading for the Dane's house, Berwald kept mainly quiet. He preferred listening to talking, they all knew that. He would have been brooding about how Tino obviously preferred Lukas and Mathias to him, but luckily, Tino seemed to sense his anxiety, and kept asking his opinions, or gently touching his arm so that he didn't fall behind.

Berwald had had a crush on Tino before; now it was full-blown head-over-heels.

* * *

Truth or Dare with this group never ended well – after two hours they decided it was time to stop before someone actually got hurt. Berwald was sweeping up the remains of a vase that had been broken in the process of the game, while the others talked.

"My first girlfriend…" Mathias nodded mock-wisely, as if imparting great knowledge, "made the best cookies I have ever known a six-year-old to make."

"You sound like a pervert," Lukas told him, sounding bored – after all, he had been there for the primary school romance.

"I've never had a girlfriend!" Tino laughed, looking around at Berwald. He seemed a little confused as to why Berwald was clearing up a mess that he and Mathias had made, not realising that it was just Berwald's way.

"Of course you haven't!" Mathias seemed to be pointing out the obvious. "You're gay!"

"What?" Tino had never seriously considered that before. Was this strange friendship he had with Berwald… a crush? Of course he felt close to the Swede, and would do anything to help him, but he had assumed it was the natural progression of friendship.

"You're almost as gay as Berwald himself." Mathias seemed sure of it. Lukas didn't say anything, but he certainly wasn't disagreeing. Tino looked at both of them, then over at Berwald, who seemed to be in his own world.

"You shouldn't talk about him as if he's not here… Berwald?" Why wasn't he reacting to this?

"Hmm?" Seeming to snap out of his reverie, the Swede looked around, as if nothing had happened. But Tino could see it on his face – the pallid tone to his face, now with almost-hollow cheeks and dull eyes.

"Did something happen?" he asked worriedly. Berwald hadn't collapsed so it hadn't been a serious vision, but maybe something else? Tino was always on guard now, ever since Berwald had confided in him.

"Sve, you look sick," Lukas said, the first hints of emotion colouring his tone, a slight frown on his face.

"'m fine. It's nothin'… jus' a bit'f a headache."

"Are you sure?" Tino pressed. "You know you can tell us!" He didn't want Berwald to lie for Mathias and Lukas' sake!

"Honest," Berwald nodded, before closing his eyes briefly. All he had was a faint pounding headache, and a sick feeling that something bad was going to happen. But he always had that when another person was going to be killed. He didn't know how to stop it, and he felt so powerless. "Maybe I'll go home."

"Aw! It's only just gotten dark, Sve!" Mathias tried to cajole him into staying but Berwald was firm in his decision.

"If'm getting sick, better t'go home now."

"Would you like me to walk you home?" Tino asked sadly. He would miss Berwald's company. But again, a shake of the head was his reply.

"It's not far."

Still, Tino followed Berwald into the hallway, watching as he got his jacket and shoes. He did like Berwald; he knew that. He liked him a lot. He was still staring at him, trying to work out his feeling just by fixing his eyes on Berwald's face, as Berwald made to open the door.

"See y'tomorrow?"

"Oh! Oh, yes…" If Tino stood on tiptoe, he could easily give Berwald a quick kiss from this angle. Just a short one, even just on the cheek…

… but he didn't.

"I'll call when I get home. Ten minutes, max." And then Berwald was gone, and Tino felt a cold shiver run down his spine. When Mathias asked him what was wrong a few minutes later, he brushed it off with nothing more than, "It's nothing... someone walked over my grave, that's all."

* * *

The walk home was dark and cold. Berwald shoved his hands into his coat pockets and buried the lower half of his face into his scarf, but there was only so much of the bitter wind that he could avoid. He reached The Elk in less than five minutes, and to get from there to his house all he needed to do was head into the underpass – it cut his journey time in half.

Every step echoed as he walked down, down into the chilly stone subway. It was a short and dimly-lit walk to the other side. As he started, he could hear the sound of a group of people – people his age, or thereabouts, boys – singing raucously up on the street, the sound of a team song drifting closer. They would probably get into the underpass soon as well.

Berwald was walking close to the side of the wall, head down. His head was throbbing again. With each pulse of blood, his hearing got a little dimmer, sounds fading in and out of focus.

_Pulse._ There were other people in the underpass now – a group, (was that the hockey team?) and someone else, someone with their hood up and hands buried in deep pockets.

_Pulse_. Berwald passed the first person, the hooded man. Their shoulders brushed.

_Pulse_. Suddenly, the man whipped around and grabbed Berwald, hand coming out of his pocket and revealing, glaring in the faint yellow light, a knife. Berwald's fist wasn't fast enough and he felt the knife sink into him –

_pulse_ –

- there was a shout from the other end of the underpass, the sound of a bottle being dropped, as Berwald sunk against the frozen wall, choking on air and gripping his attacker tightly, for want of something to hold onto –

_pulse_ –

- all he could hear was his own rushing blood, feeling it soaking into his shirt, and the sound of running feet, heavy slaps on the stone –

_pulse_ –

- then the sound of shattering glass, and the realisation that the hands pushing him against the wall were slackening.

_Pulse._

_Pulse._

He heard the sound of more footsteps, but the lights were dimming, and his head lolled to the side. Berwald's last thought was that he hoped he would dream as much in this deep sleep as he had all those years ago, when his sick, five-year-old body had sunk into the darkness in the very same way.

* * *

**A/N: Back from Hungary and back to school in two days... hopefully I'll finish this before then, though I'm not making any promises! Leave a review with your feedback, and stay tuned for one more chapter!**


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